Haunted
by thegoofybookworm
Summary: In that moment, they could be anything, anyone they wanted. She was not a Muggle-born heroine and he was not a pureblooded Death Eater. She was not the blazing, saving sun and he was not the cold, pale moon. They were each other, they were one. (ONE-SHOT, HBP-compliant)


_You and I walk a fragile line_

_I have known it all this time_

_But I never thought I'd live to see it break_

There was something different in the way his lips skimmed over hers, the way his eyes remained closed despite them breaking apart. His furrowed eyebrows were the first hint that something was amiss, yet, foolishly, she dared not question it in fear of ruining the moment. His trembling hands gently caressed her soft cheeks, his rough skin raising goose bumps all over her milky body, shivering with anxiety at what was to come.

Bitter enemies though they had been, neither could deny the undoubted attraction among them; alas, what had begun as merely physical need had developed into emotional longing, something that he knew would be a pain from which to extract himself. Oh, how he'd taken care to never love, never think of someone affectionately, only surround himself with those who did but never actually be a pawn of passion himself.

Yet there they were, in the corridors during that stormy, fateful night. How had this come to be? One trip to visit him in the infirmary too many, and she had found herself deeper than she'd ever willed to be, even with Ron, who must have been at the moment…but no, she would not allow her mind to wander in that direction when _he_ was so sweetly leaving a trail of kisses down her neck. It was not until he purred ever so gently against her smooth skin that she felt moisture, and just knew, like so many other nights that month, that he'd begun to cry.

_It's getting dark, and it's all too quiet_

_And I can't trust anything now_

_And it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake_

"Draco," she murmured, her delicate, dainty hands snaking their way into his platinum hair, pulling him closer to her. She received no response, and gasped sharply as his hands slid over her waist to the small of her back, pressing her against him and his hard chest. "Draco…talk to me…"

Again, he ignored her, except for gripping the back of her thighs and lifting her legs deftly, to link her ankles behind him. He knew if he opened his eyes, or broke away from her skin, or even allowed his mouth to speak, then it would be shattered, this little illusion of glass perfection he'd managed to build around them like a protective bubble. It would all be there, would all be _real_. They'd be sent back to the mad reality in which they were both pawns, nothing else, pawns of war, a war they had no wish to participate in. Pawns of love, for in that moment in which he held on to her like a lifeline, they could be anything, anyone they wanted. She was not a Muggle-born heroine and he was not a pureblooded Death Eater. She was not the blazing, saving sun and he was not the cold, pale moon. They were each other, they were one. This he thought as he gently bit her neck, sure to leave a mark…his last mark, if all went according to plan.

She removed her hands from their entanglement in his silky locks and relocated them to his cold cheeks, cautiously lifting his face away from her skin. She could see now, the tracks that traced over his face, still shiny with fresh new tears. His eyes were still clenched shut, his breathing coming out in ragged wisps from his nose, his jaw firmly set. Here was the image of tortured, angelic perfection. If it had not been so bitter, this momentary encounter, she would have better appreciated his appearance. But now was not the time for such pleasantries. In fact, they were both fairly certain that they were actually running _out_ of time.

_Oh, I'm holding my breath_

_Won't lose you again_

_Something's made your eyes go cold_

"Draco…love…" She gently placed her thumbs over his eyes, his eyelids, the tips of the other four fingers softly grazing over his cheekbones, as she desperately tried to ignore his hollow cheeks, the darkened bags underneath his eyes showing the misery she knew he must've been put through. They were vaguely aware of the sound of rain pounding outside, on the stained glass windows, reflecting the desperation that threatened to overwhelm them. She removed her thumbs from his eyes, instead smoothing over his light eyebrows, and his eyelashes fluttered as he finally opened them.

Immediately, it was as if someone had drenched her in ice-cold water. No longer did she shiver because of his keen, sensitive touch, but rather because of the tormented look in his pale silver eyes, clouding over with hatred. Though she knew quite well it was not directed at her, she could not help but feel terrified at the sight before her, as the boy—no, _man_—she 'd fallen in love with, morphed back into the evil persona he was supposed to be.

Still, he fought against this transformation, just as quickly shutting his eyes and pressing his lips against hers, forcefully coaxing a response out of them, slipping his tongue into her dainty mouth without waiting for permission. This was the side of him she feared; this was the side of him that everyone else knew. Despite this knowledge, however, she still wished to bring out the bittersweet personality hidden deep within, the one that had vowed to always protect her as much as possible during the oncoming war.

She knew it was futile, but yet again she pushed him away, forcing him to look at her light brown eyes, so full of innocence, of doubt. "Draco, what is wrong?"

He froze, shutting his eyes once more, and he let his head drop on her shoulder. Finally he let out a shuddering breath, wracking her shoulder with his strangled sob. She felt the material, the cloth that robed her, become damp with his salty, anguished tears. She felt him gulp anxiously, and his sobs only increased in volume, his hands reaching the small on her back and pulling her even tighter. Realization dawned on her, and, with a heartbroken gasp, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

"It's tonight, isn't it?"

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Something's gone terribly wrong_

_You're all I wanted_

He nodded into her shoulder, but it felt somehow defeated, as if by admitting so he was losing her. In a way, he reminded himself, he was. Once again he was forced to inhale her intoxicating vanilla perfume as he prepared himself for another sob to make his body shudder furiously. No matter how hard he tried, the tears would not cease their flow, and soon her shoulder was wet. It was tantalizing, how safe and protected he felt being held in her arms, when in reality they were anything but. Yes, it was that fateful night when the plan would unfold, when sides would be chosen or people would be forced onto either one. He felt a pang of irritation at his own previous naivety from when he believed that this plan would raise him among ranks too high even for his father.

"Please…if you would just tell me what…" she began once more, but her voice trailed off as he grasped her long brown curls, the back of her head, pressing her against him in a strong embrace. He shook his head, letting her know that she couldn't be told anything. He did not even trust himself to speak, for he knew his resolve would probably be broken and he would cower out of his duty, endangering his family—his mother, his father, himself. He would endanger them all because of this girl, because of this simple witch that changed him.

He would probably tell her that he loved her, that he needed her more than anything in the world and that, if it was up to him, he would take her somewhere far away where she was safe and sound from all this turmoil. He would probably show her how much he loved her, until dawn, until this hellish nightmare was over and they could be freely together at last.

No, he could not allow himself this privilege of expressing his feelings. That would make her his, and then what? It was improbable that they would both emerge out of this war—for yes, he still believed there was a chance that the light side of the war would be victorious—and he wanted nothing tethering either of them, restraining them from living. Furthermore, he did not believe that he deserved her, that he was what was best for her. She was too much of a blessing to the world to be tied down to him merely over some heavy words. Maybe if circumstances had been different, he would let her know all this.

She, on the other hand, was trying to hold back tears herself. She knew not what this great, ominous task required of him, only that he felt himself too weak to accomplish it. She could not deny it: she feared for his life. She cared very little for her own safety—she was protected under Dumbledore and the Order, after all—but here was Draco, undoubtedly submitted to the Death Eater's will, and she knew they were a very unforgiving lot, no doubt having learnt the uselessness of mercy from their master.

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Can't breathe whenever you're gone_

_Can't turn back now, I'm haunted_

Slowly but steadily, he extracted himself from her secure hug, ignoring the pain gripping at his insides. It was without a doubt that he wished he could remain in her arms forever, rather than go out and face his task. But at the end of the corridor in which they stood, was a false wall, a wall he knew to conceal his task. The Room of Requirement stood mockingly close by, and he knew what he needed to do then.

She, however, held on to him, vaguely aware that he was running out of time as well. She couldn't have explained it if she tried, but she knew she would not see him again anytime soon, at least not under these circumstances. She grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his with an unprecedented urgency, as if she simply could not get enough of him.

As soon as she felt his moist tongue touch her lips, she opened her mouth to grant him further access, her hands sliding once more into his rich hair and pulling gently. She was his, he was hers. She wished that the war would not change that. She moaned gently into the kiss, wrapping one arm around his neck and bringing him back in, as he placed his hands once more under her thighs. Instead of crushing her against the wall, however, he swiftly unhooked her legs from his waist, kissed her once more, and turned to leave.

_Stood there and watched you walk away_

_From everything we had_

_But I still mean every word I said to you_

"Draco!" she screamed after him, running down the corridor and grabbing his shoulder. He stopped, shutting his eyes, his chest heaving with the sobs that threatened to escape him. "Don't go; I can help you! We can protect—" She was interrupted as he furiously swiveled around to look at her.

"No, you can't protect me!" he shouted back at her, his eyes darting up and down the corridor in case any wandering student came into view. When he saw there were none, he returned his attention to Hermione, whom he could now see was crying openly. "Merlin…Mione…" he murmured as he cradled her face against his chest, pressing his mouth into her hair without caring that he was crying on her now as well. "Don't cry, love…I'm not worth it…"

She opened her mouth, voicing her sobs noisily, but neither of them cared anymore. To anyone watching, they would seem merely like an anguished couple, as they did not wear their burdens openly for everyone to see. "Please be careful…please…"

He sobbed aloud with her, nodding vigorously, clenching his hands into fists as he held her up against him. "Promise me you'll get somewhere safe when we part!" he hissed desperately. At the first sign of protest from her—she pulled away momentarily to look up at him in confusion—he shook his head and pressed her further into his chest, almost violently. "Promise me, Hermione!"

"I—I promise," she mumbled incoherently, though she knew in her mind she would not completely keep that promise. Finally she extracted herself from his grip and looked up at him with shiny, tearful eyes. "I love you," she whispered.

He set his mouth in a flat, harsh line, before replying, "I love you too." Then he kissed her once more, but unlike their previous kisses, this one was slow, gentle, caring—and then he let go, turned and walked down the corridor.

_He would try to take away my pain_

_And he just might make me smile_

_But the whole time I'm wishing he was you instead_

Once he disappeared into the Room of Requirement, she collapsed onto the floor, bringing her knees up to her face and sobbing so loud she was surprised nobody showed up. Well, until…

"Mione!" shouted Ron, running over to her. She didn't dare look up, for fear that he would know exactly why and over whom she was crying. "Merlin, Mione!" She felt his arms on her back and underneath her knees, and he picked her up with ease. She buried her face into his chest, not caring that he'd been snogging that bint all year long. Right now she needed a reassurance that not everything was being destroyed, slowly, painfully, at that moment.

"Ron, just…" she sobbed, as he walked away from the Room of Requirement. "Just, go upstairs, take me upstairs! Away from this blasted corridor…" He nodded and ran off, into another corridor some distance away. Anything to stop her crying.

She tried to fight off the urge to picture someone else holding her.

_Oh, I'm holding my breath_

_Won't see you again_

_Something keeps me holding on to nothing_

They both could immediately tell that there was something amiss in the castle, and Ron hurriedly told her that he would bring the Felix Felicis for everyone. She waited anxiously, along with the others, inside the Gryffindor common room, until he was back with the socks. After reassuring everyone that this was, in fact, a powerful luck potion, they all took a sip, and she suddenly got the urge to run both to the Room of Requirement and to the office corridors. She stood up suddenly and looked around at the other four.

"Alright, you lot, I've figured it out," she told them confidently, no hint of her worry for Draco easing out of her. "Ron, Ginny, Neville: you guys stand outside the Room of Requirement. Luna and I will guard Snape's office in the meanwhile, and all of you take the D.A. coins from last year. Understood?"

Neville looked up at her curiously. "But why?"

She rolled her eyes, frustrated. "What do you _mean_, why? Harry told us explicitly to guard the Room of Requirement, and as for Snape's office, well, he knows the Death Eater's dirty tricks. He could be a valuable tool, you know!"

"No," Neville shook his head frantically, mildly affronted that she'd think he was asking such a silly question. "I mean, why don't you guard the Room of Requirement instead of me? Harry seems to have told you everything, after all."

_Yes,_ she thought bitterly, _but I can't bear to see what happens once Draco exits._ "But Ron and I know best what is going on here, and we must split up. Now, please, before I hex someone, _go_!" She took Luna's arm, and together they ran down to Snape's office, and while they ran Hermione couldn't help but pray in her mind that Draco had not been attacked or spotted by Ron, that he was still protected.

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Something's gone terribly wrong_

_You're all I wanted_

"Luna, could you stop that?" she begged, looking over at her partner. Luna, distracted, ceased her incessant humming, and instead continued to sway back and forth on her feet.

The brunette looked down at her coin again, but nothing happened. What was going on upstairs?! "I don't understand," she mused aloud, causing Luna to finally look her way with interest. "It's nearly midnight now. Something surely should've—"

"Oh, hello, Professor Flitwick," said Luna airily as the professor, seeming very distraught, ran past them. His face, stricken with sheer panic, was like slapping Hermione across the face, and she worriedly rushed over to him, anxious to know what had happened to put him in such a state.

"Death Eaters!" he wheezed, undoubtedly trying to catch his breath as he doubled over. "In the castle!" As he was not really looking in the direction of the girls, it was hard for them to tell whether or not he was speaking to them. But as soon as he'd spoken, he burst into Snape's office, where the greasy-haired potions master had been gazing towards his bookshelves. "Professor Snape, you must…" The rest was muffled as the door slammed shut, but it was not five seconds before Snape reopened it, striding out.

Hermione's heart beat twice as fast and loud as she hoped that the Death Eaters had not harmed Draco.

As he looked over at the two girls, he sneered in his typical manner. "Professor Flitwick," he drawled out nasally, "requires your aid. Fainted, unconscious, on my floor, the fool," he added, brushing past them snidely. The two girls looked at each other, then walked into the room, where, indeed, Flitwick was passed out on the ground.

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Can't breathe whenever you're gone_

_Can't turn back now, I'm haunted_

"_Expelliarmus_!" shouted Draco, barging through the door. He walked into the Astronomy Tower, on the platform where his future victim stood, alone. He tried not to scoff at the lack of security in the castle, and instead turned his attention to the second broom. "Who else is here?" he asked worriedly, hoping that Hermione was not there before remembering that, no, she would not be there because of a broom. She hated flying.

"A question I might ask you," replied Dumbledore carelessly, almost bored. "Or are you acting alone?"

Draco drew his eyes back to the old man, glaring at him at the insinuation that he could not take him on by himself, and answered, "No. I've got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight." A chill filled his body as he sincerely prayed in his mind that Hermione was somewhere safe, somewhere they could not reach her.

"Well, well," the headmaster mused, seemingly entertained. "Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"Yeah," the boy told him, trying to control his panting. Truthfully, the beating of his heart was hammering so loudly inside his head, he was having difficulty breathing. _Please let her be okay…oh Merlin, please…_ "Right under your nose and you never realized!"

Dumbledore seemed to take this in. "Ingenious. Yet…forgive me…where are they now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guards. They're having a fight down below," Draco said easily, recalling the fight. Weasel, Longbottom and the She-Weasel had all been down there, but where the hell were Potter and Hermione? He could not care less about the former, but the latter, he wished she was somewhere safe. "They won't be long…I came on ahead. I—I've got a job to do."

"Well, then," answered the headmaster quietly, "you must get on and do it, my dear boy." Draco only stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. Was he really giving in so easily? Then the old man smiled. "Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" he demanded without missing a beat. "You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done!" _Betrayed the girl I love…Left her at the hands of dangerous Death Eaters…_

"Oh yes, I do." As they spoke back and forth, there was an echo in the back of his mind, urging him to protect Hermione. _I can't do anything!_ he thought angrily, and finally he stalled in a later reply to his headmaster.

"Enchanted coins. I had one, and she had the other, and I could send her messages—" He fought to keep his voice under control, as his hand was already shaking.

"Isn't that the secret method of communication the group that called themselves Dumbledore's Army used last year?" asked the headmaster casually.

Draco smiled. "Yeah, I got the idea from them. I got the idea of poisoning the mead from Her—from the Mudblood Granger as well," he spat, his guts twisting as he insulted her, "I heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognizing potions."

Their conversation continued, along with all of Draco's fears: the fear that he would fail, that Hermione would not survive, that he would have to kill Dumbledore alone. Finally, the old man asked if someone had been murdered.

"Someone's dead," he retaliated with a high, panicked voice. "One of your people…I don't know who, it was dark…" He remembered then that it had not been her, he did not recognize the body but it was not her. "I stepped over the body…I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix got in the way…"

He drifted in and out of the conversation, until he heard something that forced him to recall an earlier conversation from that same evening. "I can help you, Draco," urged the headmaster.

Draco clenched his jaw, remembering Hermione having said something similar. "No, you can't," he growled, shuddering violently by now. If Hermione hadn't been able to help him, nobody could.

_Maybe_, he thought foolishly, _maybe if I keep stalling, Hermione might survive…_ Though he knew, quite well, that these two were not linked at all.

_I know, I know_

_I just know_

_You're not gone_

_You can't be gone, no_

"They're gone, they're gone, they've gone!" shouted Ron, trying to rally everyone into the infirmary. Hermione had spotted Harry running towards the entrance hall, and she'd considered running too, until she saw he was chasing after the Death Eaters who were trying to make a swift escape. And then…then she'd spotted him…

"Everyone, to the infirmary!" she screamed, waving her hands in its direction. "Now!"

Everyone that had been caught in the crossfire was being levitated into the room, and everyone else was running inside. Only she remained positioned by its entrance, leaning against the wall, as she felt hot tears run down her cheeks. It was done, he was out of Hogwarts with the others. She had no idea what his mission had been, and she slumped against a pillar in defeat, trying to hold back her sobs.

"You're not gone," she whispered to herself as people filed into the infirmary. "You can't be gone."

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Something's gone terribly wrong_

_Won't finish what you started_

"Ron—Dumbledore's dead."

She didn't hear anything after that, as ice clenched her insides and she felt herself begin to cry once more. Had this been his mission? Had he killed him?

Tonks saved her from having to ask. "How did he die? How did it happen?"

Harry struggled to explain, to find words, and Hermione felt for him. She knew Dumbledore was close to him, had an idea of how much this hurt. "Snape killed him. I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because tahts' where the Mark was…Dumbledore was ill, he was weak, but I think he realized it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak—and then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him—"

Hermione clamped her hands over her mouth, awestruck. Draco, he'd disarmed Dumbledore…he was, essentially, to blame…Yes, Snape had killed him in the end, but Draco had disarmed him.

And then she realized she was also partly to blame. She had just allowed Snape to walk out of his office, out of the dungeons, without even thinking to question the fact that Flitwick had simply collapsed in his office! She felt so bloody stupid! But also…

She felt her heart shatter bit by bit with this new realization…no wonder he hadn't told her…

And she'd loved him. She'd gone and bloody fallen in love with this… But not all of him was bad, she remembered. He'd tried so hard to protect her…seemed so remorseful…

He'd tried to keep her safe. Despite what was currently underway, she couldn't help but hope that he was safe as well.

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Can't breathe whenever you're gone_

_Can't go back, I'm haunted_

He shot one last look over his shoulder, at the castle, before grabbing his godfather's forearm and apparating before his manor, now that the school's wards were destroyed from the inside.

_I wish I could be with you,_ he thought, biting his lip to keep the tears from spilling. _But I can't go back._

_You and I walk a fragile line_

_I have known it all this time_

_Never ever thought I'd see it break_

_Never thought I'd see it_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first Dramione one-shot, so just bare with me if it's not good. Based (obviously) on Taylor Swift's "Haunted" (which in my opinion should be the Dramione theme song). **

**Please review! (: **


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